


Alone

by ghostpuppyinspace



Category: Jessica Jones (TV), The Crucible - Miller
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-30
Updated: 2016-08-12
Packaged: 2018-07-28 07:07:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7630144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghostpuppyinspace/pseuds/ghostpuppyinspace





	1. Chapter 1

Taunted. Abused. Gone.

But who needs sanity when they can thrive solely on revenge?

She walked along the path, looking calm and collected to the outside world. But the outside world had never given a shit about her, and she'd long since stopped giving a shit about it. You see, violence isn't new, but justice? Never been around.

"Hey, hey, hey, what's a pretty little thing like you doing alone at this time of night? A place like this ain't safe for girls like you."

_"_ _Hey, hey, hey, what's a pretty little thing you doing out alone at this time of day? Shouldn't you be in the chapel? Your uncle'll skin you alive, don't you know, Abbie?"_

_"You were the one who suggested there might be ought better to do."_

_"And you thought you'd just go off and find it alone?"_

_A tinkling peel of laughter. "Not alone, I've no death wish."_

"I think I'll be fine, but thanks for your concern," she hissed, scratching behind her hound's ear and turning to leave.

"You sure? I'd be glad to, uh, escort you. Where ya headed?"

_"Oh, come on, Abbie, a puppy won't stop a robber. You can't go out dressed like that and expect to be left alone. Where-"_

_"Dressed like how, exactly?"_

_"Like you've got money to burn, among other things. Which way are you heading?"_

_"I'll be fine."_

_A strong hand on her wrist. "Hey. Where do you think you're going?"_

"How kind," she said wryly, a hint of a smirk playing on her glossy lips, "but I'm not headed anywhere in particular. I've got time to burn, among other things."

"Mind if I trail along?" _"_

 _It's your funeral."_ Men never learned.

Time to burn.

The screams were never heard. No one gives a crap, not now, not then. The only change is how the shrieks sung in her ears now. This sounds like honey; the past haunts her dreams. "Let's go," she whispered, hugging her dog. They disappeared into the darkness.

_"Good girl." They both whimpered, alone in the forest._


	2. Chapter 2

Jess was a literal angel. Everyone who knew her thought so. No one suspected that she didn't sleep at night, for any reason at all. She was too perfect to even have nightmares, to toss and turn like the rest of the world. She shined so brightly that the very idea of corrupting her by inviting her out to drinks after work, or flirting crudely with her, was unheard of. In fact, the only time she ever turned cold was when someone mentioned the murders.

  
"Why are we talking about this?" she asked, her usually melodious tone made terse.

  
No one thought much of it, assuming she simply took no pleasure in hearing of death. If they had watched more closely-if they hadnt been blinded by the light of the sun inside-they might have noticed the faint smirk that played on her cherry lips everytime it was mentioned.

  
Jess brought her hound to work everywhere. If Jess was the sun, her dog was the vaccum of space for everyone except her master. Privately, her coworkers called Patsy a hellhound, which Jess put a swift stop to with a smile and a few bats of her eylashes. "We've been through a lot together. She's just a bit... protective, is all."

  
Patsy boofed as if in agreement. There were uneasy nods and wary glaces passed around, but it was never spoken of again. Jess just had that effect.

  
Nobody would figure Jess for a killer. Somehow, she always seemed perfectly tragic, like a piece of humanity spliced away from a more innocent time and suddenly battered by the harsh cruelty of this new world.   
Jess wasn't exactly forthcoming, but nobody would figure her for a killer. Nobody but her victims, and who were they to talk, buried in a trash heap so they could rest among their ilk? But Jess wasn't what you'd expect of a killer, she was warm, and innocent, and pure. Not the sort you'd figure to get some sick pleasure from watching life slip out of someone's eyes...

  
And she didn't. Most people were safe from her daggar and gaze. There was a particular sort she was after, or rather they were after her. And they'd never get her again. She'd make sure of that.

  
She took her time strolling along in the crisp autumn breeze, but her walk wasn't aimless for long. 

  
"Hey, there." He wasn't unattractive and he had a bright smile, filled with perfectly straight teeth. 

  
"Hi," she said, breathless in the chill of fall and brushing hair out of her face to rest behind her ear like her life wasn't the opposite of a rom com.

  
"You gonna be okay out here all on your own?" He glanced over her shoulder to make sure she was, in fact, alone, before turning to face her and flash another quick smile. Suddenly, there seemed to be too many of his perfectly straight teeth, like his mouth swam with them and prepared to devour her.

  
"I have her with me," she said coyly, pointing her head at her pup, "What is she? Chopped liver?"

  
The gears in his head turned so clearly a child could have picked up on it, not that Jess was anything of a child. No, chidren were allowed to grow old and die... The gears spun to a halt and he gave another flash of teeth; teeth that now seemed pointed, like those of a carnivious beast. 

  
"Hi, there, baby!" He leaned down and scratched Patsy's ears, a touch she endured only for their cause. His actions were a touch too stiff, a touch too much forethought made them look robotic and calculated.

  
"You don't do this much, do you?" Her eyes batted up at the tall man, her own teeth briefly making an appearance to bit her bottom lip.

  
"Do what much?"

  
"Try to take strange girls home."

  
"Is that what I'm trying to do?" He sounded almost disappointed although she wasn't sure if the anger brewed because she'd figured him out or because there'd be no fight to get her there. The confused touch of relief suggested the latter.

  
"I'd like to think so, if I wasn't too concerned with my ever growing vaniety."

  
"It's not vaniety if its well deserved."

  
"You live far from here?"

  
"No, too far," he hedged, almost second guessing himself.

  
She'd give him a chance. "I don't think I should... She needs eat, y'know." A nod towards the dog to remind him she was not unprotected.

  
His resolve harderned. "Don't worry about it! I have two dogs about her size, I'm sure she can make do with a night of their food?"

  
"Of course she could," Jess said, a bright, innocent smile dominating her features.

  
The walk was, admittably, not too far. His place was nice, like perhaps he was a lawyer or a share holder in a modest well-off business. "Where are your dogs?" she asked with false curiousity as she set her bag down.

  
"Uh, they're away for the night," came the response from the kitchen. The sound of wine pouring folllowed.

  
He brought the drinks back to the main room, setting them on the table she'd curled up closest to. Coy smiles were exchanged, but their eye contact, and the tension that went with it snapped at Patsy's bark a few rooms over. 

  
He immediately marched over, muttering, and Jess switched the glasses as his back turned. There were hushed curses and grunts of pain, then he walked back.   
"Just a squirrel by the window."

  
"I'm sorry about that, but you understand, I'm sure yours do it all the time."

  
"Uh, Yes, of course."

  
She could smell the blood from the bite he was trying to conceal. "To not letting dogs spoil precious moments," she smirked, raising her glass. His hand was on her knee before they'd finished their glasses, and on her ass by the time he passsed out from whatever he'd slipped in her drink.

  
She rolled her eyes, pulling her daggar from her bag next to her. Patsy gave a yip and she nodded, dragging his unconcious body toward the sound. A sliding glass door revealed the garbage can. 

  
Garbage cans were the perfect place to dispose of trash, she mused as her daggar sang against his forehead. He gave some murmurs of pain, which she halted before tossing his body amongst the leftovers and empty cartons. 


	3. Chapter 3

The office buzzed over the drum of the news. "A young man, identified as Johnathan Pate, was found dead in his trash can early this morning. His appears to be connected to the string of murders we've had recently, as he, like the other victims of this mysterous killer, has the word 'NO' carved into his forehead. Now, Ross Haines, our handwriting specialist with his professional analysis-"

  
"Why do you suppose they dump them in trash cans?" one intern whispered to another."Or write 'NO' on their head?" The intern's mass of curls shook with vague, undirected fear; her hazel cheeks tinted rose with horror from the gore.

"No clue," the other intern chirped, wholly unconcerned with the matter. "You meeting us for drinks later?" Glossy, well-manicured nails tapped against the printer impatiently.

  
"Nah, I got a paper to write," the girl twirled a curl with her finger, moving to return some copies.

  
"Oh , come on-hey, why are you staring at us, Nosy?"  
Jess looked up in surprise

_"This is none of your concern, Abigal! One day, you'll learn to mind yourself."_

"Sorry, I must have, daydreamed, y'know?"

  
"Whatever." There was a swish of a long blond mane and the rude intern had disappeared. The other intern gave an apologetic smile, then turned back to the copier.

  
Jess resumed typing into her computer, explaining data to clueless executives, when a tall dark and handsome man, about the age she looked, walked in. She blinked up at him, pondering and glancing down at Patsy, who couldn't tell what to make of this strange man either. They went up to get more coffe.

  
"Who brought the dog?" the man asked, kneeling down to pet Patsy, in such a way that even she deemed it acceptable, despite her finicky tastes. He glanced up at the hound's owner and suddenly seemed starstruck.

  
She got more coffee as he collected himself.

  
"I brought her," she said with a chuckle.

  
"What?" He'd forgotten.

  
"She's my dog."

  
"Oh, yeah, course. She's beautiful. What's her name?"

  
"Her name's Pasty, and mine's Jessica, thanks for asking."

  
He laughed wryly, scratching under Patsy's  chin. "I was gonna ask. What can I say-I'm a dog lover. What breed is she?"

  
"Newfoundland dog, and you are?"

  
"What breed am I? Well, uh-" She'd flustered the poor thing.

  
"No, your name."

  
"Ah, of course. Luke."

  
"Nice to meet you Luke." He finally, finally looked up at her once again. "What're you doing 'round these parts?"  
"Well, I'm your new boss. Middle management and all."

  
"Glad to se you take your job so seriously."

  
"Oh, you want serious?"

  
"I'm always open to new experiences." A challenge and an invitation.

  
"Ah, well then, Miss Jessica-what did you say your last name was?"

  
"I didn't."

  
"Hmmmm, well, you should really be wearing your badge," he said, pointing at the tag reading "Luke Cage" under his photogragh for emphasis, "and I'm a little sketchy on corporate policy, but I don't think we allow giant dogs, no matter how adorable." He punctuated that with another pat on Patsy's head. "Not to mention, shouldn't you be, I dont know, working? Serious, enough for you, Miss Jessica?"

  
"Almost," she said casually and went back to her desk. Living like she had, she'd gotten rather good at picking up on even the tiniest cues, but the only read she'd gotten off Luke was that he was eager to please and that he was cautious. She thought while she typed, occasionally stroking Pasty's fur. The hound butted her head against her master's leg comfortingly to let her know that she'd gotten no read on him either.

  
But the both kew that the absence of warning signs didn't equate an absence in need for alarm, after all it was also the absence of a sense of firm security and safety. Not knowing what to make of someone could be the definition of dangerous.


End file.
